Holiday stress

I’ve been so busy I’ve fallen horribly behind on the entire holiday rush - it feels like it was December 2nd just yesterday. How did so much time pass?

The 2nd!  That’s when you won your game!  Good times.

The kids aren’t going to school, thanks to classes being let out for the holiday season, which makes everything just that much more stressful. I have to wait until Gordon is home before I can take the bus to go shopping for gifts, and of course, now that the kids are older, none of the old standbys work anymore. They want expensive gadgets and trips and iPhones and gaming consoles and games for the consoles - I don’t even know what half the things they asked for do.

“Waiting for the bus”

Steal a car you fucking pansy.

Christmas shopping is easy!

By a carton for Sarah and a whore for Brendan.

One who won’t recognize you from the job, of course.

That way they can share both gifts.

And I have Christmas dinner to worry about. I went to the grocery store and already, the only turkeys left are pathetic little things that will barely feed my family, I’m certain. I finally found a decently sized one, but since picking it up I’ve been even more sleepless, wondering when I’m going to find the time to cook it.

And wrapping - oh, god, I nearly forgot all about having to wrap the gifts. I may take another trip out and pick up gift bags, instead, and hope that everything will fit in those. They have some pretty large ones, I think...

Oh, here’s an idea.

She’s not been in the dirt that long.

We can taxidermy a toy for your son!

And for Gordon, we’ll give him the pictures I took of his TA and us.

what what pictures did you take

I’m finally breaking you down.

I talk about taxidermy-ing Jill for your son to fuck.

And you’re worried I might have evidence of a certain college student going down your chimney with care.

shut up I am not anything like you

Just get rid of those pictures.

That’s fine.

Besides that’s pretty much the tamest thing I’ve made you do.

Did you know you’re a kinky little slut when you put your mind to it?

I’m too stressed to deal with you right now. Do this after the holidays.

Oooooh.

I have a condition.

I’ll leave you alone.

I won’t even type when you update this dumb little journal.

If you do this for me.

Depends what.

I’ll wait until Christmas to screw with you, if, when it’s done, you go to a bar and humiliate yourself.

Bonus points if you end up going home with someone after.

fine

You promise?

fine I promise

you’ll just make me do it anyway if I don’t

Aw!

It learns.

Oh, and Lyndsay?

Merry Christmas.

It's the little things

Life’s all about the simple pleasures.  There’s nothing quite as simple as strutting around alleys in a short skirt and with an expensive purse.

The excitement.  Who’s going to find you?  A mugger?  A rapist?  A serial killer?  I love how victimized women are in human society.  It’s so much more fun to do this with a woman’s body than a man’s.

I was enjoying myself last night this way, in fact.  Walking down an alley.  Glancing around nervously.  Calling out to shadows.  Really playing up the whole “defenseless housewife” angle.

I was rewarded by a young man with a knife.

“Gimme your purse!”  He screamed.  He was eying the purse, yes, but also how great Lyndsay’s legs are in this skirt, that excellent cleavage she has when the top three buttons on her blouse are undone.

Oh, I thought, I could have fun with this.

So, I released control, and watched the fireworks.

what

No I won’t talk about this

You can’t make me talk about this. No. Please.

Oh come on.

You were great.

Keep going.

THIS ISN’T A GAME

I I don’t know how I even managed to escape alive

You don’t remember?  Let me refresh you.

He grabbed your purse.  You just let him have it, remember?

I remember now stop

Then after he grabbed it, he pinned you to the wall, remember?

He put his hand on your leg and started to push your skirt up.

stopit

He ripped your blouse open.  He called you a whore.

i;m begging you to stop

You struggled to get free.  He touched you.

i don’t wnat to hear anymreo jsut please stop

You used what I taught you.  I’m so proud.

You got the knife away from him.

And you jabbed it in his armpit.

People bleed out so fast if you stab them there.

you made me do it

No, you did it all on your own.

Fight or flight made you do it.

You fought.

I just gave you a weapon.

I can be your sword if you want me to be.

I just need some sharpening.

And something to slay.

i’m going to be sick

please never make me do that ahain

What do I get?

We keep coming back to this, but like any relationship it’s give and take, Lyndsay.

i don’t know

Well, think it over.

In the meanwhile, we need to wash the blood out of that miniskirt.

call the police

It feels like there’s a leak in my brain. When I sleep, when I make dinner, little things are seeping out that weren’t there before. Things I didn’t used to know. Things I don’t want to know.

Did you know that when you cut through a chicken bone, it’s about as difficult as cutting through a human finger bone?

I know that now.

I know how to skin an animal. I know how to skin a human.

Oh good!  You’re finally learning from me.

I know how to cut off someone’s head and mount it on a wall. I know how to hunt. I know how to start fires with nothing more than a rock. I know how to put together a bomb. I know how to sharpen wood until it can work as a knife and where to shove it, to kill someone.

Don’t forget the really sexy stuff.

I know things that make my head spin. In, and out of the bedroom.

and I know how to bring those things that don’t belong in the bedroom into ‘play’. It makes me ill to think about it.

And to think, Lyndsay, you learned some of it by experience.

My point is.

When they reported that Jill’s body had been found, this morning, I found out all her injuries. And I know how I inflicted them.

I have to turn myself in.

No.

I don’t think you will.

I won’t kid myself.

You won’t let me.

But I should be brought to justice. You should be brought to justice. You murdered a little girl.

No, Lyndsay.

We did.

And what makes you think I don’t want to go to jail?

I can have so much fun in jail.

Do you know how many cigarettes I could use you to get?

I would be a god in there.

And when I got bored?

I’d just switch to a guard and walk out.

Then let’s go to prison. I’ll call the police right now and turn myself in.

Would you really do that to Gordon, though?

Or your children?

Thanks to you, they’re better off without me.

Oh no.  If we’re going to go to jail, let’s really deserve it.

“I’m sorry officer, I couldn’t help it.  Sarah just reminded me of Jill.”

“I didn’t even realize it was my daughter until the knife was in.”

“And then I had to kill the rest, I had to.”

“They can’t be lonely in Heaven.”

You will not touch my family. That would bore you, wouldn’t it?

You love threatening me with them. You love scaring me by saying you’ll hurt them.

That’s a lovely hypothesis.

Let’s see if you’re too much of a coward to test it.

Call the police.

See what happens.

I will.

Do it.

Why are you holding that knife, Lyndsay?

STOP IT JUST STOP IT

No, let’s do this.

You don’t think I will.

I think I will.

Why not test it?

I wn’t call the poilce

Are you sure?

The phone’s in your hand.

It’s a good thing you’re already crying, this’ll sound so much better if you’re tearful.

i wont call

There’s a good girl.

A nice, boring girl.

I’m just looking out for you.

You’d never make it in jail, anyway.

I’d see to that.

Crashed the car

Gordon is furious with me. He won’t come right out and say so, but after what I did to the car, I can’t fault him for it. I’ve never driven a day in my life, and suddenly, yesterday, I seemed to ‘wake up’.

I was at a red light, behind the wheel of Gordon’s car.

I didn’t have a clue what to do. I didn’t even know which pedal was the gas. I probably damaged something, hitting both pedals, jerking the wheel...

It was supposed to be a sink or swim moment.

Guess who sank!

I crashed the car. It wasn’t terrible, they said, but I’m lucky the damage wasn’t worse.

You are so pathetic.

You literally couldn’t drive a car when everything was set up for you already!

The damage will cost a few thousand to repair. The car is still drivable, so Gordon still has a way to get to work.

I think what bothers me the most is that I have no idea where I was going.

Do I have to do everything for you?

Looks like.

There are directions in your cell phone, silly.

I don’t have a cell phone.

Check your purse a bit more carefully.

Stop.

I don’t have the money for is.

Yes you do.

I’ve made sure you do.

What

How?

I don’t have the qualifications to be hired anywhere. I know whatever you’re doing isn’t legal. What are you doing?

Oh, lots of things.

Armed robbery’s easy once you know the trick.

Oh, and speaking of tricks.

That’s the other thing we’re doing.

Or, rather, turning.

Stop this stop this right now never do this to me again

They should have left you some messages on your phone.

Why not read them aloud so Gordon can hear?

I’m deleting all of these

Never do this again. I mean it.

Or what?

Are you going to sulk at me some more?

Just stop

What do I get out of “just stopping”?

Do you have any sense of right and wrong at all?

Right is fun!  Wrong is boring.

No.

That’s not it.

Yeah, but what you mean is boring, so I deem it wrong.

Jill

I pop the trunk, reach in, and toss the squirming bag to the ground.  I can hear her breathing inside, trying to scream against the gag.  I grab the sack and start dragging it down the dirt road, towards the old barn at the road’s end.

I throw the bag down hard and open it.  I pull the squirming teenager from it hard enough that I’m in danger of dislocating her fragile little shoulders.  She’s only thirteen, and dressed in a nightgown that’s still meant for children, displaying her favorite cartoon ponies proudly to the frigid barn.

I removed her gag and cut her bonds.  The revolver is now pointing at her.

Stop I don’t want to hear it

“Strip.”  I order.  My voice is forceful and strong.

“P-please, Mrs. Kinsella, p--please, I’ll--”

“I said strip!”  The revolver cuts across her face.  Teeth crunch with a satisfying noise with the blow.

please, I don’t want to remember

She looks up, shocked, blood pouring from her mouth.  She takes off the nightgown.

“P-please, don’t.”  She says.  “P-please, I’m sorry.”

Oh god, the little bitch thinks I’m going to rape her.  Why would I do that?  I don’t need to force myself on someone for control.  I am control.  And besides, why would I want to fuck someone who doesn’t even know what they’re doing yet?

no

It’s only fun if it’s happening to the body I’m in.

“Lie down.”  I order.

no more please

She sniffles, and nods, and lies down.

I wonder, for a moment, if I should be merciful.

It’s a brief flight of fancy, but it’s a powerful thought.  This little girl lives or dies as I command.  I can have it quick, or I can have it slow.  It’s my call.  I am, in this moment, the God of Death, whole once more in my mandate.  Kill, free, or simply abandon to whatever fate she have in the middle of nowhere.  It’s my call.  My right to give or take as I see fit.

I tie each of her limbs to a post.  She’s sniffling.  I take out the knife again, and she starts screaming for help.  She’s begging me not to do it.  She’s screaming and crying and telling me I can do anything, please, don’t kill her.

stop PLEASE

For another brief moment, I wonder if I shouldn’t just abandon Lyndsay’s body.  Here’s a nice, fresh little morsel.  So young and  full of life.  So full of potential.  How much longer does Lyndsay actually have, anyway?

I make my first incision.

please, I’ll do whatever you want if you’ll just stop

She’s alive for longer than I had given her credit for.  I managed to get from her crotch halfway up her torso before she lost consciousness.  Maybe I should have taken her body instead.

That doesn’t stop me.  True to my word, I cut all the way to her throat.  She was dead before I quite made it there, but it’s the thought that counts.

I’m going to be sick

I’m bathing in the blood, now.  It’s sprayed over me, and I feel young.  I’m like Elizabeth Bathory, soaking in the blood of a virgin.  Drinking it in.  It sends a shiver down Lyndsay’s spine.  Our spine.  It’s so good to feel.  Feel that life slipping away.  All that lost potential.  She had her whole life ahead of her.  And I took it from her.

why

She hurt our little boy.

My condition

According to the doctors, I hadn’t had enough of that ‘tea’ to be fatal. It made me violently ill, and if I had been pregnant, the effects probably would have been much worse.

Better safe than sorry!

              
Gordon drove me home from the hospital. I feel terrible; he called in sick to work, and has been doing nothing but worry. We had a very long talk, in the car, and now I don’t know if I feel better or worse about how distant we’ve been from each other.

He was apologizing for things, like being inattentive. Being so busy. He said that he hadn’t been working very hard on our marriage, and he regrets that. I don’t think he was ever cheating on me. He said, he’s just been so tired. Dragging himself, day in and day out, to work or to the kids’ practices or even just out of bed. I think I know how he feels.

Unbearably dull?

Half-dead.

Now you’re getting it.

Took you long enough.

It all just makes the things I’ve been doing - rather, what you’ve been doing to me - so much worse. You made me cheat on him. My marriage could be destroyed. It’s lucky my family hasn’t already fallen apart.

Yeah, but, hey, if we work on that, we can get it done by the end of the month.

I just have to treat this like, living with a disability.

I can be a better wife and a better mother. I just have to work around my condition.

If you try to do that, I’d be careful.

Your condition’s terminal, after all.

And it’s about to get worse.  For you, not for me.

pennyroaly

whhhhat didyiu do tom e what didyou do oyto me

I was worried you might be pregnant!

So I did you a favor.

this

this usii

thisis hell what is happpppppening

I made you some tea!

tea

teadoens’t make you vomit and bleedn and there;s so kmuch pain i can;t breathe

It does when you make it with just the right amount of Pennyroyal.

\rm

m\kw it stop pleae se

I can make it stop.  You won’t feel a thing.

Just ask me to take control of your ungrateful body.

If you had been pregnant, you would be thanking me right now.

You should be thanking me right now.

On your hands and knees.

What if you’d been carrying two more brats?

They’d be down the drain by now!

But no, you’re just griping.

“Mistletoe, why did you poison me?”

“Mistletoe, why am I so useless?”

“Mistletoe, why did you kill that little girl?”

It’s all about you, isn’t it?

i htink i;m dyinng